Evolution
by Zymm
Summary: The world is no longer what it once was. With mutants being hunted down and rejected by society, a few survivors band together to search for a future for mutankind. But can they overlook their past affiliations and complicated relationships for the chance at survival?
1. Chapter 1

The world was no longer what it once was.

There was no definite turning point in the past, no specific event that changed the tides. Looking back, one could see plenty of red-flags, plenty of violent acts or discriminatory actions that would shock someone looking from a distance. But to the majority, it seemed natural and needed.

There was practically no resistance as they passed laws prohibiting mutants in the workspace, in the school space; they slid each rule under the table, as if they knew it was wrong, knew it had dirtied their hands. But yet they continued.

Then the sterilization started, the screening of every human and subsequent actions on those that even carried the possibility of birthing a mutant. For safety, the assured; there were many events which resulted in civilian casualties, so it was better that way, for humanity as a whole. The Mutant gene was a disease on civilization, just a bump in human history. They compared it to the black death, as if it were similar.

There was rebellion, dissent, but as the government grew stronger, the voices grew quieter. Heaven forbid a mutant voice disatisfaction on their own damnantion.

Last Kitty Pryde had heard, they'd started cleansing the waters even further by murdering the parents of mutants, ones that did not even exhibit mutant abilities. Her own were not excluded.

But that was last she had heard on the outside, and Kitty had not seen the outside in a very, very long time.

Kitty Pryde

Shadowcat

Location Unknown

Time goes by slowly.

It's all a haze in her mind, a questioning of what is reality and what is dream- or more accurately, nightmare. It's just a blur of bright, bleak lights, and hospital instruments and screams and the inescapable feeling of terror. She was Kitty Pryde, the Shadowcat, one of the best X-Men, the protegee of the Wolverine himself. But she was utterly, completely terrified.

She doesn't know if it's ever night or day, she doesn't know how long she'd been underground. It has been a lifetime for her, one she'd rather forget. She isn't even sure what old memories of hers are real, and which are just dreams she longs for in this place.

She wonders about her teammates, the ones she thought were still alive. She wonders about her friends, the world. She wonders if there's even a humanity still out there, wonders if she will ever see it again.

Then one day, time stopped. It didn't crawl by anymore, but rather broke. It was like a mirror she'd been gazing into had suddenly shattered.

There were alarms going off somewhere, and then a deafening roar. She had been in some weird trance between sleep and wake, listening to the quiet hum of the facility. And then it was all plunged into chaos. Kitty had thought she'd died in that moment. She wasn't sure whether to be upset or grateful at the sudden change of events.

The lights were off, save for a dim red emergency light flickering. It moved in a circular pattern, bathing her in red line every few seconds and then leaving her to the inky darkness. There were wires hanging from the walls serving as a supplemental flicker. There was earth falling from the ceiling, rubble raining down everywhere. It was a scene from a nightmare. Her ears were ringing from the shock of whatever had caused this apocalypse.

Her cell door was open- rather, ripped apart, the metal bend crudely around the edges. Kitty blinked at it, wondered if this was just another test, another way to experiment on her, to find out what made her tick.

She still had that damned collar on her neck, muting her abilities. It was loose- she was

a bit smaller than the average mutant, after all. Surely they would've taken that off if they wanted a demonstration. She couldn't put on much of an extraordinary show without her powers.

Her bare feet slid across the cold concrete floors, and she focused on the feeling of it beneath her. This was reality, surely. Her heart ran rapid in her chest.

She saw figures run past, dark shadows illuminated only when the red alarm flashed in her direction. Kitty pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath.

They didn't stop for her.

Kitty wasn't wearing clothes, she realized. Had she ever worn clothes here? She didn't remember. There was a thin hospital gown by her metal cot, a ghostly white lit up by flaming red light. She slipped it on. Just in case.

She was in the hallway before she knew it; her feet knew the way, longed for the escape. She was numbly following along, feeling like an outsider in her own body. She felt drugged.

There was a hallway to her right, barely lit. It stretched beyond her eye, illuminated only by the round of the red alarm and the sparks of wires, showing the crumbling architecture.

Kitty saw a figure.

Big, lumbering, falling over itself. She stood her ground.

It was coming closer, far faster than she had anticipated. It moved like an animal, and the as the ringing in her ears slowed, the roar from the creature heightened.

She ran, terror clutching at her heart. What a shame, she thought, to die right after she escaped the hands of death himself.

It grabbed her from behind, sharp claws tearing at her sides; she screamed despite herself, throwing an elbow that hit the side of its head. It whipped her around, pushing her against the nearest wall, held up by one of its massive hands at her neck.

The red alarm flashed by, illuminating his sharp features, nearly black eyes, the sweat glistening from his temple, the snarl on his lips.

She wouldn't forget Victor Creed in any lifetime.

Panic set in further, adrenaline pumping through her. It wasn't just Victor Creed- no, it was the animal side of him taken over, likely poked and prodded at by the scientists here. She wondered dimly if there was even any human part of him left.

Kitty kicked her feet, landing blows to his legs, but he hardly registered it. She was completely off the ground, suspended by his hand. She was losing air, gasping for breath, wondering if this was it.

He leaning in to her neck, sniffing; his grip tightened as his nose trailed up her neck.

"I know you." He growled, but the snarl on his lips no longer seemed dangerous for her. In one swoop he slid his fingers under the collar, his hands burning at the tender skin on her neck. He ripped the collar off her, leaving her gasping.

Kitty fell to the ground, on her knees, heaving for air. She could feel the electricity burning through her veins, the tell-tale sign of her powers back. She felt tears staining her cheeks, and she turned back to her attacker.

He looked down on her for a long moment, his chest heaving, his fists clenching and unclenching. And then he turned and ran, lit only by the timed red flashes in the hallway.

Kitty continued. She did not follow in his direction; she sensed that he was after far more than just escape. She had no interest in that yet.

Besides, she had a faster route.

She phased through the walls, but it seemed that the facility was more of a maze. She felt lost in it, her head reeling with the toll of her powers. It was like exercising a limb that had been missing; she ached with the power of it, a need to use it but also rest it.

How long had she been running for? It felt like hours since she had escaped her cell. Kitty thought that they must've noted her disappearance by now. She didn't have much time left.

She passed many figures in the dark, not bothering to stop long enough to study them. Perhaps if she'd been the person she was a year or so ago, she would've stopped to save those around her. Hell, she had one of the easiest paths out of here. But she was a much different Kitty Pryde now, and she would do anything to escape this place.

One wall led her into a room identical to her own, and she barely stopped in her run, until she felt an arm go through her, the familiar tingling rushing through her shoulder.

"Well, hello, Kitty-cat." A familiar drawl said, making her shoulders tense. She glanced over her shoulder at the all too familiar face of Pietro Maximoff, full of sharp angles bathed in red light. His tone was humorous and patronizing, but his face was anything but; his silver eyes were narrowed, his mouth in a straight line. His unclothed chest heaved, sweat glistening in the red light. He was in pain.

Kitty stopped moving, but kept her phased state, lifting her chin high.

"We can help each other here, in this hell." Pietro offered, looking down at the small girl in front of him, caught like a deer in the headlights. She offered no fear to him, though, just quiet resentment. "Or, more accurately, escaping from this shithole."

"Where's your collar, Maximoff? Were you not even important enough to chain up?" Kitty offered, narrowing her eyes up at him. She didn't need his help, and she never would. She wouldn't forgive him for his past crimes, regardless of the new world.

"You can phase and I can make us move fast. It's not rocket science, Kitty-cat." Pietro said, glaring her down. His teeth were gritted now. She wasn't sure if he were even in a state to exercise his powers.

"I can." He said strongly, sensing her questioning.

"It may not work. I've never phased at high speeds. Might make us both mush, ripping our molecules apart." Kitty answered, the wheels turning in her head, her voice little more than a hoarse growl. It shouldn't work, it couldn't. It was just a suicide pact.

"Much rather that happen on my own accord, rather than by the hands of the assholes here." Pietro said, offering her a sharp grin, his silver hair falling across one eye.

She didn't have anything to lose, if she were honest, and she was too preoccupied at the time to let that reckless thought scare her.

Kitty held out a hand.

They were outside in a split second, leaving Kitty's head reeling somewhere, her body mentally miles behind them. She hit the ground beneath her, the meager contents of her stomach coming up around her. Kitty had sworn she'd felt her body rip apart and rearrange itself thousands of times in that split second. Her limbs were jelly beneath her, her head throbbing.

When she came to, her senses snapped into place around her. She was cold and wet, frost biting at her.

She was kneeling in snow.

Kitty felt fat tears rolling down her cheeks, stinging at the sensitive skin, irritating it further. But she couldn't help it. She thought she'd never see the outside world again, except in dreams. And dreams didn't do reality justice. There was fresh air whipping her curls around her face, snow pooling at her legs, and tall trees blocking her in.

Pietro was next to her, but in a very different position. His face was buried into the snow, his whole body practically trying to absorb the cool feeling. Kitty wondered for a split second if he were dead- and she hated the fact that that scared her, the opportunity of being alone.

He moved, pulling up his face enough to groan loudly, the sound vibrating through the snow around them. He eyed her through tired squints of silver eyes.

"I think I left half of my body in those damn walls." He grumbled, and Kitty moaned in agreement.

They were miles away, but the smoke from the flames still rose above the treetops, maring the night sky above them. It was oddly surreal, the snowy forest untouched and beautiful, and the chaos raging calmly next to it, far away but still too 'd ran through bright streaks of fire to get to their location, flames of red and orange. Kitty was happy to watch it burn.

"What now?" Kitty asked, because it had to be addressed. They hadn't budged from their previous location, still disoriented and weak. It was a smart move, Kitty thought, but still stupid regardless. Mutant powers shouldn't be mixed so violently, and their bodies were taking the toll. The cold was beginning to creep into her warm, sick body, and she doubted that was a good combination.

"I wouldn't mind laying in this snow until I can feel my legs again." Pietro grumbled, trying to brush off her question. His fingers were curling and uncurling in the snow.

"We're sick from that stunt we just pulled." Kitty told him, a rush of irritation going through her. "You're going to get hypothermia without even noticing."

He didn't even have a shirt on; she'd already noticed that a few times, though she would never admit that to him as long as she lived.

Why should it matter? He could die for all she cared, after all he had done.

No, she told herself strongly. She couldn't be alone. She needed another mutant.

She hated needing people.

Pietro didn't outwardly agree with her, or admit she was right, but he still pulled himself to his feet, his joints cracking and protesting at their use. He let out a string of curses, a grimace on his face. He stood up all the way, and Kitty realized he was much, much taller than him.

It had been a long time since they'd been face to face, she had to admit. But he didn't frighten her. If it came down to it, she could kill him.

"Let's find something. Shelter, food, something useful." Pietro said, more talking to himself than her. He stumbled his first few steps through gritted teeth.

"And then what?" She questioned, following quietly beside him. She felt god-awful as well, but she was able to keep up his strides with considerably less pain than him. There was something more wrong with him, but she wasn't going to question it.

"God, I don't know, Pryde. Got any more fucking questions?" Pietro growled, narrowing his eyes in the dark. Kitty bristled but made no response.

She could've let him lean on her, could've offered him some warmth as the chill set in and they began to search for shelter. She could've been a healer, a mender, someone meant to repair and support. It was something she was once accustomed to doing.

But that was the old Kitty Pryde, and this one could care less.


	2. Chapter 2

Pietro Maximoff

Quicksilver

Location Unknown

Pietro felt like his body wasn't even under his control anymore, like he was being piloted by something else. He couldn't connect his thoughts at the moment or even string a few damn words together to make a sentence. He should've been freezing, he knew, out at some ungodly hour in the middle of some snowy forest, not even a shirt on, but his body burned and he was sweating like he'd been taking some leisurely swim in a pit of lava.

It was like he'd overdosed again on some shitty drug. And he'd done that plenty of times before, because there was no guide to trying to drug some mutant with the metabolism of a tank. It was all or none, baby.

And Kitty freakin' Pryde was within arm distance of him, for the first time in what had to be a decade. He wasn't sure if this were real life or not. If this were another simulation, he was going to reign hell on that cell when he got back. He'd make it his priority to at least murder a few of those bastards, just for good measure.

"There." Pryde whispered beside him, her voice all low and husky. She was pointing into the distance, and he had to squint to align his shaking vision enough to see the faint outline of a shack. Oh, this was a bad idea. They were idiots. In his delirious state, he wanted to laugh. There was no way this wasn't some damn trap.

Pietro stumbled for a moment, his left leg refusing to move. He cursed, feeling anger rush through him. He couldn't even move his own body. He hated feeling weak.

He felt Pryde brush up next to him, putting one of her slender arms around his waist, letting his weight rely on her. He bristled up at first, ready to push her away. He didn't need her damn help.

She was so short and slim, her head barely above his shoulder, but he leaned his weight on her and found that she was in fact stronger than she seemed. It helped him walk easier, but he'd never admit it to her.

Kitty didn't say a word.

The shack was rather small and unimpressive, just four wooden walls with a flimsy window and door. It was situated perfectly against a tree, letting the branches and snow cover it from all but those who were seeking it. It was much too perfect for Pietro's liking.

"This is a trap." He said as soon as she'd helped him sit in one corner. His chest was heaving, his body still sweating despite the temperature. He was paranoid, his hair on end and his whole being telling him to run.

"You're halfway in the grave and I'm not much better off at the moment." She responded, turning around to face him, her hazel eyes striking in the dim moonlight. He studied for a minute, unashamed with his looking. Kitty Pryde had changed drastically since they'd been in Bayville; gone was the skinny, teenage figure, and instead came soft, womanly curves. Her hair was long and smooth, her face even more striking and beautiful. Even covered in blood and sweat, she was a sight for sore eyes.

He hated her even more.

"Maybe you're right, Pryde. We're going to die anyways, might as well make it easy for them." Pietro shrugged, laughing loudly, without a hint of humor in his voice. He'd made her tense up, like a cat ready to dart away from danger. He pushed further.

"Hell, I've pretty much deduced that there is no way this isn't a simulation. It's funny how they put us together for this one, probably want to see us claw each other apart. I could kill you, Kitty-cat, recovery or no. How does that make you feel?"

He felt a rush of sharp pain across his face and he realized that she hit him. Kitty Pryde just slapped him.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Maximoff. You're lucky I helped your sorry ass, and delusional or not, I won't take it." She told him, crouched in front of him, only a few inches between them. He narrowed his eyes at her, itching to fight back. But he'd heard stories- she'd had a lot of training, a lot of experience since their teenage days, if he'd heard right. He wasn't saying that she could beat him- hell no- but it may be a challenge in his current state.

"We're staying here for the night. I'll take first watch, you can take second." She demanded, already settling into the corner furthest away from him. Kitty sat down, folding herself into a cross-legged position, her chin held high, daring him to answer her.

"I won't need long. I don't sleep much." Pietro said, still glaring at her, mustering all the hatred he had from her, the X-Men, the situation they'd put him in. He hated her, but most importantly, he hated what she stood for.

Kitty said nothing, simply resting her head against the wood panels behind her.

Pietro slept longer than he could ever remember sleeping before; he could never sleep much in the past, with his mind always moving, always going. But it seemed that this time, it was ready to stop for a few hours.

He dreamt of a long time ago. When he was still with the Brotherhood, still a stupid teenage boy not yet ready to commit to the extent of his powers. He'd had a lot of threats, a lot of big talk, but nothing to back it up except for a hatred for the X-Men and a loyalty for the man that was his father. It was a foolish loyalty, something bred out of desperate times and childish hope. It didn't last forever.

Neither did his dreams, luckily for him. He wasn't sure how much he could take.

There was a hand over his mouth, its mate shaking his shoulder quietly. He opened his eyes instantly, used to waking up in a moment's notice.

Kitty was crouched in front of him, and she mouthed a word to him, no sounds coming from her parted lips.

Listen.

He did as she said, listening for the slightest of noises, the smallest movement. He heard it- the settling of snow under a foot, barely audible in any normal circumstance. But with the quietness that came with a heavy snowfall, it was like a thunderclap in the night. Pietro lighty moved her away from him, trying to keep their movements as quiet as possible. He stood up, ignoring the way his joints cracked under use.

Kitty raised a finger to her lips, her eyes glowing at him in the dim lighting. She moved to the wall behind him, beginning to phase outside without the slightest of a noise-

The door flew open, and in an instant there was a flash of bright color along with sound of an explosion.

By the time the small missile had reached its target, Pietro had a small hand gripping his bicep, and the explosive went straight through him. God, he'd never get used to the feeling of an object moving through him.

"My bad," The figure said, his cheeky grin and recognizable drawl the only things Pietro needed to observe to know exactly who had attacked them.

"Go to hell." Pietro scoffed at the cajun man, a disgusted scowl on his face. He didn't hate the man, but he certainly wasn't a friendly face. Gambit- or Remy, though Pietro hoped to never be close enough to call him that- was one of those grey people who never really picked any side he liked, instead just looking out for himself. But hell, Pietro probably disliked him because he was the same damn breed.

"I never thought I'd be happy to see you again, Remy." Kitty said, grinning despite herself. She'd taken her hand off Pietro's shoulder, and it left a cold spot, devoid of the little bit of warmth she'd given him. He didn't care, obviously.

"I'd be happy to see Logan again, at this point." LeBeau said, that dumb lopsided grin on his face. It made Pietro scowl; he didn't trust that thief as far as he could throw him. His father didn't trust him, and as much as it pained Pietro to agree with him nowadays, he felt it was right. Any person that could manipulate your actions, your emotions, was a threat and not to be trusted.

Not to mention he was an asshole.

"How's Rogue doing?" LeBeau asked, that dumb lovestruck look on his face. It made Pietro uncomfortable- get ahold of yourself, he thought. How pathetic, to be manipulated by someone who wasn't even trying.

"I haven't seen her in a long time. Last I heard, she was doing some work in South America." Kitty told him, and Pietro saw a look cross her face- distrust. "That was before I was taken to this place."

LeBeau didn't say anything in response, just nod and look away from Kitty's strong gaze. Pietro knew the feeling.

"We need to get moving, if we don't want to be tracked. If you found us, that means we aren't near far enough away." Kitty asserted, pushing past the lean man still in the doorway. Pietro almost scoffed- he wanted to argue, to put her in her place. They weren't a 'we', they weren't suddenly cheery little vacation partners.

They were just using each other, and he'd already used her. She wasn't useful to him anymore.

But he didn't say a word. He bit his tongue so hard he thought he tasted the rich, coppery blood. Pietro Maximoff was not a follower, and he would rather rot in hell than be a follower of Kitty Pryde.

But he wasn't done using her, he told himself- mutants were being murdered left and right, and if he wanted to get out of her, her abilities could be useful. She did keep him from being hit by a flaming pinecone (LeBeau would pay for that) earlier, much to his displeasure.

"You're welcome to follow, Remy." Kitty told him, addressing his tall frame. Unlike Pietro, he had actually secured a shirt before his escape, but he still had those gold, alluring eyes. She didn't trust him much, either.

"I'd feel much safer at your side." LeBeau said pleasantly, giving her a slight bow, that lopsided grin still on his face. Pietro scowled.

It was just until they found a safe place, he told himself. Then he'd ditch them both; it didn't matter that there were few mutants left on this planet now, and the whole shit about how they should 'stick together'. He could handle himself, and even if for some reason he couldn't, he'd rather die than be with Remy LeBeau and Kitty Pryde.


	3. Chapter 3

Remy LeBeau

Gambit

Location Unknown

Remy LeBeau was usually calm and collected; he prided himself on the careful way he controlled his emotions and the easy way he carried himself. In his line of business, it was much easier that way. Why upset people, when you could charm them? People were so interesting, so individualistic. It was much easier to go about his day that way, even if he did occasionally kill people.

Occasionally, though, and only if they deserved it. And if the cash was there, of course.

But when that facility went to hell, he was pissed off. He was angry, raging, and worst of all, scared. What they'd already put him through was unspeakable, but if he didn't make it out for good this time, he'd be in even worse torture for the future. So he acted like an animal.

He'd barely had to touch the rubble around him for more than a few seconds to charge it, and it had detonated beautifully. Remy had been one of the first to bolt from the rubble of his cell, and he'd faced many of the guards. The place was so screwed anyways that it had been almost easy.

He passed a surprisingly few number of other mutants- most he couldn't identify, some seemed terrifyingly young. He saw one he briefly remembered- a figure lit only by the flames he was wielding; Remy watched long enough to see him burn a facility guard alive, screaming incoherent words.

They must've been bombed, Remy thought later. And a big one at that- the facility was underground, he knew as much, and one of the most heavily protected superstructures he'd ever been in. And he hadn't even had the pleasure of seeing much.

This is where they kept their 'special' terrorists, and that was what mutants were labelled as now.

At some point, he was just blowing things up. All of his pent up energy sent into the walls around him. He'd never felt so out of control in his life, so much like a trapped animal fighting for its very survival.

They should've put a collar on him, Remy thought in that moment, finding the humor in the situation. It was one of his testing days- he'd memorized them in his head, the spaces between each test they made him undergo. This was one of them, and thus his collar had been removed. What beautiful timing.

His escape felt unnaturally easy, and he was sure it was a test. But he had to take the bait, had to at least try and escape.

He was surrounded by so much goddamn snow.

Remy hadn't seen this much snow in his whole life, and he wasn't sure whether to be happy or furious. There was still adrenaline pumping through his veins, urging him to keep moving, but he couldn't help the rush of relief over him. He was still in danger, but it was no longer directly touching him. It was still lurking around the corner, waiting for him to make a wrong move.

He walked for hours, until it all looked the same. He wasn't sure if he was going in circles; it was snowing so hard that his footprints would've already been filled. He continued, ignoring the biting cold.

He thought about Rogue, wondered if she still hated him. He had long told himself that if she were still safe, it wouldn't matter. That was in vain, believing he was looking out for the greater good. No, he was selfish, and if there were any hope she would forgive him, he hung onto it.

He didn't deserve it- Marie was always good, always for the right reasons. He was always for himself.

She was probably dead, murdered at this point. But though he thought it, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

When Remy found the tiny cabin, he'd expected it to be survivors from the facility. Not mutants- human survivors, the ones that had captured and experimented on them.

His paranoia had only grown in the past hours, every noise setting him into fight or flight mode, every settling of snow putting him into a cold sweat. He was not the calm, collected Gambit, not in these moments. He was wild, feral.

Besides, even if it wasn't workers, he told himself, he hadn't made many mutant friends in his years on this planet. What were a few more enemies? Better he alive than dead to nativity.

But he had been pleasantly surprised- it was Kitty Pryde, whom he was not on the best of terms with, but certainly not the worst. She was like his Marie- good, right, and strong. The bad part was also that she was like Marie, and though she seemed grateful at his sudden introduction, she eyed him warily.

He did not expect her travelling companion, though.

Pietro Maximoff was flanking her, his tall, slender figure quite the contrast to hers. Remy was a master of human movement, simply brilliant in analyzing it and manipulating it to his use. And though he knew Pietro had no idea, it was humorous to see that he was protecting Kitty instinctively, his figure slightly in front of hers.

How cute, Remy thought.

Now that Remy felt more like himself, more in control of his state and his surroundings, his fascination swept back in. It was these little encounters that no one paid mind to but Remy himself that showed so much about a person.

"Do you know how long you'd been in there?"

The question threw Remy off guard, for it seemed so easy to answer, but as he thought, it only led to frustration. He realized he had little to no idea how long he had been in there. It felt like he'd been in there a whole lifetime, like all her past memories were from a different person.

Kitty was still looking up at him as they continued their pace, waiting for his answer. The look in her eyes showed desperation, and he realized that she didn't know either. They'd been walking south for the past hour, at her advice, after studying the constellations above was brilliant, Kitty, something he'd known of but never been shown. It's easy to forget that she was once a child prodigy, easy to forget the intelligence over the mutations.

"I'm not sure." Remy told her, furrowing his brow. "It was a long time, I know that much."

"Last day I remembered was December 3rd, 2021." Pietro spoke up, for the first time in their trip together. He had kept his distance from the couple, feigning disinterest, but Remy had caught him looking at them, listening to their conversations with straining ears.

"I don't remember the exact date." Kitty said, biting at her chapped lips, her cheeks a nice shade of pink from the biting cold. Remy noticed she was shivering, her slight frame not providing enough warmth. He tucked her under his arm, attempting to help.

He waited for her to continue, but the words seemed to freeze upon her lips. She shut her mouth, a darker look crossing her face. She had piqued his interest, but Remy decided not to push at it. Some things were better left unsaid, and though they had somewhat of a mutual trust for one another, things were not what they once had been.

In front of them, Pietro stiffened, standing to his full height, straight as a board. Remy could see the strain in the muscles on his back, the way his hair practically stood on edge.

Remy realized it before he even had the time to turn around and address them, felt it in his bones, his very being.

They were being followed.


End file.
